


A Dark Castle Christmas

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bae is gone and he ain't coming back, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Forget Skin Deep Actually, Happens before Skin Deep, Happy Ending, Probably some things I’m forgetting, Smut, There is no curse, This has just jumped into the realm of ridiculousness, This is why I don’t write Christmas stuff, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One does NOT celebrate Christmas…Ever!  Belle sets out to change that. Of course he screws it up and then has to set out to make things right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dark Castle Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Regretfully, I do NOT own OUAT nor any of its characters. They belong to Disney and its creators. This is merely a work for fun and not meant to infringe on Trademark, Copyright or any of the nasty legal things.
> 
> This is my entry for the holiday contest on our Facebook group “OUAT Fan Fiction & Creations 18+”. Hope you all enjoy. Thankfully, the contest doesn’t end until January 15th and gives me the chance to get this done with all the other projects I have going on. I know I usually refer to Christmastime in the Enchanted Forest as the Winter Solstice Celebration, but for this fic I’m deviating from that and going with Christmas. (o:
> 
> Thank you so much Claire, for being the best beta EVER!!!! <3

 

 

The spinning wheel creaked to a stop, Rumpelstiltskin unable to ignore the repetitive…and if he were to be honest, annoying…tapping of Belle’s low heeled satin slipper against the hardwood floor.  She stared at him through the spokes of the wheel, one perfectly sculpted auburn brow arched in question.  He wondered how long it would take her to ask what was clearly on her mind as he lifted his gaze to hers.

“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously, the tapping coming to a halt as she shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“What’s it look like, dearie?  Either your eyesight is going or you’re not quite as intelligent as I’d previously given you credit,” he snarked at her, a shrill trill of maddening laughter echoing through the Great Hall.

Belle rolled her eyes and shook the object in her hand.  “Yes, Rumpelstiltskin, I know what it is.  The question is…why was it lying across the foot of my bed when I woke this morning?" she queried, holding the gown up by the shoulders and pressing the soft velvet over the work dress she wore.

He rose to his feet and paced away from his wheel, uncomfortable under her penetrating cerulean stare.  “Here’s a better one.  Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“I asked you first,” she insisted stubbornly, folding the gown over her arm and planting her hands on her gently rounded hips.  Another of his childish giggles permeated the air and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from showing her amusement.  She wasn’t going to let him off the hook this time.

He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and arched a brow of his own, a small smile toying with his thin lips.  “And as your master, all queries made by me supersede your own.”

Belle took a step forward and his eyes were drawn to the gentle swaying of her hips.  They snapped back up to her face, widening as she inched closer.  “I think you were trying to be nice.”

“Rubbish!” he scoffed, regarding her warily as she approached.  “It’s getting colder, dearie.” He motioned to the closed curtains with a wave of his hand.  “The castle is drafty.  Can’t have my little maid catching her death of pneumonia, now can I?  Who would fetch my tea?”

She giggled softly and closed the last few inches of space between them.  She slipped her hand into his, holding fast when he jerked reflexively at the touch, and rolled up onto her toes to place a kiss to his weathered cheek.  “Thank you, Rumpel,” she murmured, reveling in the muted gasp that escaped his parted lips at her touch.

He took a step back, the fingers of his right hand rubbing together as he fidgeted nervously, always unsettled by her little displays of affection.  He wondered if he would ever understand how she could be so comfortable touching the Dark One.  “No matter,” he said, hardly recognizing the strange lilt of his voice, the shrill tones of the imp giving way to the deeper, more human tones of the spinner he’d been.

With a flick of his wrist, the gown settled perfectly over her petite frame.  The deep rose colored velvet hugged her curves in all the right places. The square neckline showed more of her bosom than he’d intended, but he wasn’t about to complain.  The long fitted sleeves would keep her warm, as would the added length in the hem.  The braided gold belt was just the right accent to showcase her trim waist, and matching satin slippers peeked at him from beneath the full skirt.  She was so beautiful, and pure, and good…  He ducked his head for just a moment, feeling more than unworthy to even look upon her.

“Tea!” he snapped, inwardly cursing when the sharpness of his tone made her jump back from him warily.  He knew she wasn’t afraid of him.  She’d never been afraid of him- for some reason that still stymied him- but his outburst in the silence of the room had startled her…no more.

Belle smoothed a hand over the luxurious softness of her skirt and smiled knowingly.  “I’ll get right on that.  I have some peach tarts I was saving for dessert tonight.  Would you like to have them with your tea instead?”

His mouth watered at the mention of those delectable little treats she was so adept at making…the same ones that reminded him of her sweet scent.  “The ones with the cinnamon sugar glaze?”

Belle nodded slowly, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she deliberately teased him.  “Your favorite, if I’m not mistaken.”

Rumpelstiltskin drew his hand back a second before he touched her, snapping out of the seductive haze she was weaving about him.  “Well, the tea isn’t going to make itself, dearie.”  He waved his hands, shooing her towards the kitchen.  “Go!  Off with you now!”

She chuckled softly as she turned, delighting in the way her new gown swirled about her legs, luxuriating in the feel of the velvet against her skin.  “I won’t be long, Rumpel,” she called over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the hall.

Rumpelstiltskin slumped back against the long dining table that dominated a good bit of space in the cavernous room and dropped his head in his hands.  What was he going to do with the little minx?  How had he ended up with such an odd girl?  Because you’re a greedy, covetous bastard!

He scowled at the empty space he was staring off into, his lips curling up into a sneer.  Yes, he supposed he was.  Belle had been so beautiful, and he had to admit he did indeed covet beautiful things.  At the time, he could only think about what a valuable addition to his collection she would be.  Not to mention it would totally rub her noble father the wrong way.  Oh Maurice had balked at the idea of giving up his only daughter and heir, but he hadn’t put up much of a fight…not even when she’d taken the decision out of his hands.

Rumpelstiltskin had been fascinated with the little princess.  She’d looked on him with curiosity, her natural inquisitiveness bright in her cerulean gaze.  She hadn’t been repulsed by his beastly appearance or mannerisms.  She hadn’t shied away from him at the first touch of his clawed hand at her back.  That in itself should have raised more than a few alarm bells within him.  He paced over to the overstuffed leather chair before the crackling hearth and flopped down onto it, propping his chin in his hand.

After that first week, and a rather uncomfortable period of homesickness…she’d changed.  It had started with that blasted outlaw and their foray into Sherwood Forest.  All because he’d had a moment of weakness and spared the blighter, she believed she saw something in him that wasn’t there.  She was simply being delusional, he thought with a huff of indignation.  The Dark One was aptly named for a reason and he refused to believe the goodness she insisted dwelled within him was there.  He’d just compounded her belief when he’d gifted her with the library and a room of her own.  He still couldn’t quite grasp the reason he’d done such a thing.  It certainly couldn’t be because he cared for the girl.

He glared down into the blazing fire, his brow knit into a dark frown.  And what could possibly explain her change in attitude?  Belle flitted about the castle as though it belonged to her.  She smiled. She hummed. She rearranged his possessions to suit her, and she completely disregarded his bouts of temper.  Not that they were tantrums, per se.  The Dark One did not throw tantrums!  He simply voiced his opinions rather loudly…and broke things…and…oh hell!

Why was she so bloody happy?  She wasn’t supposed to be happy!  The little princess was supposed to cower in the face of his rage.  She was supposed to fear him.  Everyone feared the Dark One.  Why was she so different?  And it was only getting worse.  She was his! She belonged to him body and soul…forever.  He could defile her to the point of madness if he so chose and there was nothing anyone could do to save her from it.  She was subject to his whims, yet…he couldn’t find it in himself to treat her badly, to crush her spirit.  It was what warmed him on the cold nights when he would drag himself off to his lonely bed.  Lately, he’d found himself bringing her little trinkets when he would leave the castle to make his deals.  He deliberately contrived excuses to seek her out while she went about her daily chores, and sought out little ways to make her laugh.  What the hell was wrong with him?  

He snorted.  He knew damn good and well what was wrong with him…he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

X*X*X*X*X

Belle’s smile faltered as she returned to the Great Hall and noticed Rumpelstiltskin’s dark visage.  Oh, dear.  He’s brooding again.  It didn’t matter how much she tried to make him happy…it never seemed to be enough.  He was such a complex man…and that was truly how she saw him, the man, not the monster. She could spend several lifetimes and still not peel back all of his layers.  In the four and half months that she’d been his servant, he’d unwillingly let her see beneath the mask he wore.  He was no more a monster than she was and there was nothing anyone could say to change her mind.  She’d seen him at his best...and his worst.  It had only made her love him more.

She hadn’t set out to love him.  Quite the opposite, really.  She’d made a sacrifice to save her people, but she’d done so willingly.  What she hadn’t expected to find with her new master was the freedom to be herself.  With Rumpelstiltskin, she wasn’t a princess, or someone’s fiancée, or someone’s daughter, or a tool to further their own agenda.  With Rumpelstiltskin, she was just Belle, and she flourished under his rather grudging care.  He actually acted as if her intellect weren’t something invaluable, but nurtured her desire to broaden her mind.  When she could catch him in a calm mood…which wasn’t often, mind you…the imp would absent himself to be replaced by the gentle man he’d once been.

Belle had researched him long and hard before she’d persuaded her father to contact him to save them from the ogres, and nothing she’d found could convince her that he was the vile monster he was purported to be.  He’d been a man once, of that she was certain.  A pure demon wouldn’t have saved her from a lecherous sheriff, nor would he show such marked affection for Jefferson’s daughter on the rare occasions that she accompanied him on his visits.  Yet, it wasn’t just the man she saw beneath the mask that she loved so well, but all the facets of who he was…including his darkness.

When he’d taken her from her home, she had expected all manner of vile things from him.  She hadn’t expected to find such happiness, or a deep abiding love she’d only read about in her beloved books.  She wanted so badly for him to be happy as well, wanted so desperately for him to let her in.  Perhaps someday he would bend enough…

“Are you going to stand there all day gawking at the monster until the tea’s gone cold?” he snarked acidly, snapping her out of her reverie.

Belle squared her shoulders with steely determination, a hint of her former smile returning to her lips.  Perhaps he just needed a little encouragement.  Her low heels made a soft tap against the hardwood floor, then became muffled altogether as she stepped onto the carpet and lowered the tray to the ornate table between the two chairs by the hearth.

“I wasn’t gawking, Rumpel, and you’re not a monster,” she insisted, not for the first time.  “I was simply wondering why you seemed so sad.”  She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes as she carefully poured the fragrant brew into his chipped cup.

He snorted disdainfully and leaned forward in his chair, reaching for one of the tarts that seemed to call to him. At the same time she leaned forward to hand him his cup.  He froze, his face mere inches from the plunging neckline of her bodice.  The scent of roses, peaches and just a hint of cinnamon…combined with something that was unique to his little maid rose to tickle his nose.  He felt his body tighten with need.  It only made him want her more to see the rosy blush spreading delicately across her chest and the gentle swell of her breasts.

“I…ah…I’m not sad, dearie,” he stammered, lifting his gaze to hers as she pressed the cup into his hands, his forefinger gently tracing over the chip in the rim.

Belle hummed dubiously and settled on the hearth rug before she poured her own tea and added lemon and a cube of sugar.  “Would you like to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he scoffed, sipping his tea and watching her through narrowed eyes.  “I simply have a headache.”

She tucked her feet beneath her and turned her gaze to the fire crackling in the hearth.  She knew it irritated him that she didn’t often use the chair he’d brought in for her use, but there was just something about sitting there on the rug that appealed to her more.  It might have had something to do with the fact that she was closer to him and to the fire.  She could retain warmth from them both, she thought as she hid her grin behind the rim of her cup.

“Would you like me to fetch one of your cordials?” she asked, lowering her voice so as not to aggravate the ache further.

“No, dearie,” he sighed.  “They will do little to alleviate the pain when the constant calls for my aid are driving through my skull with more and more frequency.” He rubbed at his left temple, his scowl darkening.  “It’s always the same at this time of year.  ‘I need gold to buy presents for my little ones’, ‘I need a new gown for the Christmas feast’, ‘I need a love potion to attract a new beau’,” he said, his voice high and shrill as he mocked the desperate souls he preyed upon.

Belle giggled as she placed two of the peach tarts on a saucer and handed it to him.  “I’m sorry, Rumpel., I don’t mean to laugh,” she replied when he cast his narrow-eyed amber gaze on her.  “Can’t you simply turn them off?”

“What if I miss something important?”

“You mean, what if you miss something that benefits you,” she corrected him.

“Don’t you have something to clean?” he asked, exasperated.

Belle bit her lip to stifle another laugh and rose to her feet.  “I always have something to clean, Rumpel,” she said, an idea forming in her mind.  “Just call if you need to me.”

He closed his eyes as he listened to her soft tread make its way to the double doors leading out of the Great Hall.  “I always need you, my Belle,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself for his weakness.

X*X*X*X*X

Belle draped his cloak over his shoulders and fastened the clasp, staring up at him with evident worry in her cerulean gaze.  She didn’t withdraw her hands from him immediately, her fingers stroking over the soft ermine that lined his hood.  “Are you certain this is going to keep you warm enough, Rumpel?”

“Stop fussing, dearie,” he scolded lightly.  He actually quite enjoyed it when she fussed over him, relishing the feeling of her touch long after she’d stepped away from him.  “You know the cold doesn’t affect me as it does normal men.  Besides, I’ll only be gone a week or so.”

Belle bit her lip, trying to muster up a smile for him.  She didn’t want him to remember her wreathed in frowns, thinking she moped about the castle every time he had to leave on business.  “I just don’t want my master to return home resembling an icicle,” she teased.  “You’ll be home for Christmas, though, won’t you?” she asked, unable to keep the note of wistfulness from her voice.

“Christmas, bah!” he snorted with a roll of his eyes and a shudder of disgust.  “Yes, yes, I’ll be home, dearie.  Now!  Let’s go over the rules.”

It was Belle’s turn to roll her eyes as she followed him out into the hall as he made his way to the entry doors of the castle.  “I’m to allow no visitors in your absence under any circumstances.  If I venture outside I am to stay away from the gates.  I’m not to step foot in your laboratory,” she said in a dry monotone as she ticked them off on her fingers.

“And?”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to think of what she might be forgetting.  “…I’m not to touch your things, especially those that might harbor magical properties that could cause me injury or harm,” she recited verbatim.

“Exactly,” he said, a satisfied smirk curling up one corner of his thin lips. “And should you find yourself in danger?” he asked, pulling on his gloves.

“I simply have to call your name.”

He nodded, not mentioning the fact that she merely had to think his name and he would know, so attuned to her as he was.  His tongue snaked out to wet his dry lips as his gaze dropped to her rosebud mouth.  He wished nothing more than to kiss her goodbye, but couldn’t bear the pain of her rejection should he attempt it.  “Alright, dearie,” he murmured, jerking his gaze back to hers.  “I’m off.  And remember…I’ll know if you disobey.”

Belle reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and on a whim let her fingertips trail along his cheek briefly.  She was encouraged by his sharp intake of breath, realizing he wasn’t unaffected by her innocent touch.  “Be safe.”

Rumpelstiltskin slipped out of the warmth of the Dark Castle and into the frigid cold so prevalent on the mountain.  He could feel her eyes on him all the way to the gate.  He could have simply teleported himself from within the castle, but had he done so, he wouldn’t have had the pleasure of her watching him walk away.  It disturbed him that she cared enough about him to want to bid him farewell and he wondered if she might…no, it was pointless to think she might feel something for him.  He was the beast of the Dark Castle, after all.  There was no love and happiness for him…no happy ending.  Not for him.

X*X*X*X*X

Belle was a whirlwind of activity in the following days.  She was determined to make their first Christmas together a memorable one.  He must have a good reason as to why he disliked the holiday, because she refused to believe it had anything to do with his deals.  But perhaps she could help him make better…more pleasant…memories.  Ones that included her, she thought with a grin as she set aside the last garland of holly and cranberries she’d strung together.  The cranberries had been easy to procure from Rumpelstiltskin’s temperamental food locker, however, her feet still felt a bit frozen from her foray out on the grounds to raid the holly bushes for their little white and red berries.

Due to an extensive search through one of the storage rooms…Gods!  The man was such a packrat…she now had a nice collection of glass ornaments for the tree she’d cut down.  That had been an adventure she never wished to speak of…ever.  Somehow she’d been able to drag it back to the castle.  She suspected that feat had been accomplished by sheer force of will and not her limited strength.  It had taken her longer to fashion a stand to put it in, and it listed a little to the left, but it wasn’t that noticeable.

Belle had collected so much greenery from the grounds, she hoped he didn’t notice the sparseness upon his return.  The curtains were drawn back and tied with festive gold and green velvet ribbons, their sills adorned with holly and pine boughs and the pinecones she’s scented with cinnamon.  The hearth had a large wreath hanging above it…no small feat, that.  She’d had to drag out the ladder and somehow managed to climb up there with the decorations.  She was lucky she hadn’t plummeted off the rickety thing more than once.  More of the pine boughs and holly and cones graced the mantle.  The Great Hall smelled heavenly, and she caught herself stopping just to breathe in the scent more than once.  All that was left was to trim the tree.

The tree wasn’t very big, just a little taller than her own diminutive height, and it didn’t take her long to hang her homemade garlands and baubles.  She frowned, however, as she stood back and surveyed her hard work.  There was still something missing…a more personal touch perhaps.  She tilted her head to the right as the star drooped.  With just a few adjustments and a few mild curses, she finally got it to remain in the position she desired.  She wanted everything to be perfect for her master’s return.

Seeing there was little else she could do, she began to gather the boxes to return to the storage room when something caught her eye.  Digging deeply into the box, she found one last glass ornament, the little globe like ball a bit bigger than the others she’s hung on the tree.  It was a frosted crimson with hints of blue. The lonely little piece of glass seemed to call to her, reminding her a bit of her and her cantankerous master.  It was then that inspiration struck.  She took some of the packing hay from the box and set it on the table, placing the ornament at its center before hurrying off with the boxes.  She returned them to the storage room and rummaged off in a forgotten corner of the expansive room.  She unearthed several jars of paint and a few brushes, clasping them tightly to her chest as she made her way back to the Great Hall to set to work on her newest project.

The second part of her plan was going to be much more difficult.  Belle really wanted to plan a nice meal for him on Christmas day, and though she excelled at breads or desserts, her talents were rather nonexistent when it came to basic meals.  It was one of the reasons she loved the food locker there at the Dark Castle.  She’d been absolutely fascinated with it when she’d first come to live there.  As the castle was enchanted to do its master’s bidding, so was the food locker…most of the time.  For some reason the locker did not like Rumpelstiltskin.  If he asked for ham, he was more likely to end up with pastrami.  If he asked for lamb stew, he’d receive chicken and potatoes.  It caused him no end of frustration.  But how often did one come across a food pantry that would stock whatever its master asked for simply by asking?  It saved her time…time that could be better spent cleaning or reading or exploring and she couldn’t be more grateful for it.

So it was with great trepidation that she paced before the food locker with a list of her demands.  “Alright,” she began in a firm voice.  “I’m sure you can tell how hard I’ve been working on the desserts for our Christmas celebration as I’ve stored everything in there.”  And she had.  There was pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and even a cream cheese pie topped with candied cherries.  Sugar cookies, cut and decorated with sugar crystals to resemble stars, gingerbread cookies, peach tarts, cherry tarts and a myriad of other confections to satisfy Rumpelstiltskin’s sweet tooth resided on a shelf in the locker.  “Now I need your help.  I want tomorrow to be special, as it will be our first Christmas together.  I know the highlight of your existence is to bedevil our master, but can’t you please help me make it nice for him just this once?”  She was sure the enchanted locker would be rolling its eyes if it had any.

The door opened and there on one of its previously empty shelves sat a small cauldron of her master’s favorite lamb stew.  It brought a brilliant smile to bloom over Belle’s lovely features.  This was as good as an olive branch.  “Thank you!” she cried, twirling happily in a circle.  The locker would preserve the stew for later, thankfully.  “Tomorrow I would like a roasted goose with stuffing, some of those lovely candied sweet potatoes, bacon wrapped asparagus…wait, can we get that at this time of year?” She shook her head, realizing how foolish it was to be talking to herself, much less an enchanted pantry.  “And some…”  The list went on and on as she named off his favorite dishes.

One more day and he would return.  One more day until they could celebrate their first Christmas in the Dark Castle…the first of their forever.

X*X*X*X*X

It was late on Christmas Day when Rumpelstiltskin finally returned to the Dark Castle…in the foulest mood imaginable.  A deal gone bad to say the least.  Why did people think they could get their heart’s desire without paying the price for the magic?  It made no sense.  Did they visit the butcher and leave with a nice fat ham without paying?  Simpletons!!!  Did they think he was prone to charity just because of the blasted holiday?  Belle would think so…gah!!!  That was another thing plaguing his mind just to make matters worse.  No matter how long he stayed away, he couldn’t seem to banish her from his mind…nor his heart.  And yes, futile as it was, he’d let her into the black withered husk that beat within his chest.

Perhaps he would send her home to her father…and then drown himself in an extra-large vat full of memory potion.  That should make her ecstatic to be returned to her family, shouldn’t it?  He wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking she would choose him over her family.  Who would choose a monster over their own family, after all?

The doors of the Great Hall blasted inward and he came to an abrupt halt as the aroma of pine, cinnamon and most of his favorite dishes assailed his nose, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he took in the festive decorations…

Belle shot to her feet, shaking off the remnants of the light doze she’d fallen into as she awaited his return.  Her cerulean eyes were alight with happiness as she noticed him standing in the doorway, her wide smile testament to the warm feelings held tightly within her chest.  “Rumpel, you’re home,” she breathed.

“What the hell have you done to my hall?” he snarled, his lips curling over his ruined teeth as he advanced a few steps into the room, his eyes darkening as they landed on the petite spruce in the corner.

Belle moved over to the table and lifted the last ornament in her hands, clutching it lovingly to her chest.  After the paint had dried on the delicate glass, she’d decided to save it, to let her master hang it on the tree himself.  “Do you like it?” she asked hesitantly, confused by his reaction to all her hard work.  “I thought it would be nice to decorate for the holiday.  And look,” she said, gesturing to the heavily laden table, the dishes still piping hot.  “All of your favorites.  I even baked more of the tarts you love so well.”

“You did this!?  Did I not tell you to stay away from my things while I was gone?” he hissed, rage barely restrained in his spell clever fingers.  “You’ve wasted my gold,” he snarled, pointing at the delicate strands entwined in the wreath and garlands along the mantle and window sills.  “You’ve been digging through my storage rooms and meddling with my collections and you’ve dragged a nasty tree in here!  The Dark One does not celebrate Christmas!”

As he pointed out each decoration, his magic banished it from the hall.  Over and over all her hard work disappeared in the blink of an eye.  Everything she’d lovingly prepared…gone.  Even the dinner she’d painstakingly provided.  The first tear slid from her lashes, followed by another and another, each one sliding unchecked over her ashen cheeks.  The only thing left was the ornament clasped so tightly in her hands.

“Meddlesome, infuriating, foolish girl!” he raged, coming to stand directly before her as he unclasped his cloak and held it out to her, expecting her to take it.  When she made no move to take it from him, he slung it over the back of his chair at the head of the table, glaring at her.

Belle bit down on her lip, using every ounce of her will to hold back the sobs that rose to choke her.  Normally, she would have yelled right back, shown him she wasn’t intimidated by him in the least, but as he’d banished her holiday preparations, so had he banished her hope that she would ever be able to reach his heart.  She was merely his servant, another prize won in a deal and unworthy of his love.

“Well?  What’ve you to say for yourself, dearie?”

Her eyes resembled a storm-tossed sea, filled with despair and her own inner turmoil as she finally lifted her gaze to his and held out the ornament to him.  She offered him the only thing she had left, the only thing he hadn’t yet destroyed.  He held out his hand, his gaze filled with suspicion and she placed the glass bauble in his green-gold palm.

“Happy Christmas, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, the pain of his rejection evident in the broken utterance.  Without another word, without waiting for a sneering comment or the sound of him smashing her gift, she stepped around him and made her way to the door, wanting only to escape to the comforting solace of her room.

He didn’t look at the object she’d pressed into his hand as he stalked over to his chair next to the hearth.  With a flourish of his hand, a jug of goblin-made fire whiskey appeared on the table before him.  Another of her Christmas baubles, no doubt, he thought with a derisive snort, raising his hand to throw it into the fire.  But before he could toss it in and relish the sound of breaking glass, his eye caught on the delicate looping scrawl painted onto its frosted surface…his name…and hers.  He opened his hand, the anger leeching out of him as he gazed at her gift.  Rumpel & Belle, Our First Christmas.

One blacked nail lovingly traced over the words she’d painted onto the ornament, his heart fluttering madly.  How long had it been since anyone had given him a gift…if ever?  Surely not since his son had been lost.  No one ever gave the Dark One something without expecting something in return.  That’s it!  She wants something, the demon whispered furiously in the back of his mind.  He stubbornly pushed the thought away.  Belle wouldn’t do that.  She never asked for anything…not even warmer clothes when the temperatures dropped to dangerously low levels.  She did things for him as she strove to care for him that no other servant would do.  She gave from…her…heart.

The imp dropped heavily down onto the chair, his knees giving out beneath him under the weight of his callous disregard of her feelings.  It was bad enough to know that he’d made her cry…it wasn’t the first time…but to think that he’d broken her.  “Fuck!”  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

X*X*X*X*X

Rumpelstiltskin knocked softly on her door, the sound of her muffled sobs making his gut churn viciously.  It was the only sound to be heard in the deserted corridor as the heartbreaking echo seeped from beneath the door.  Even the taunting whispers of the Dark One in his mind were suspiciously silent.  He waited a moment, listening, but only the sound of her sobs reached his ears.  He knocked again, louder this time.  Her cries stuttered for a moment, as if she were trying to make them stop.

“G-Go away, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said brokenly.

He took a chance and tried the knob, relieved when it turned easily in his hand.  He pushed the door open and peeked around the barrier, his eyes searching through the darkness for his girl.  The only light was from the fire crackling in the hearth.  “Belle?” he called hesitantly.  He didn’t feel comfortable invading her personal space.  It was the one place in the castle she could call her own and it felt somehow wrong for him to be there…especially since she’d already denied him entrance.

He approached her slowly once he located her in the opulent room decorated in cream and blue.  She was huddled on the hearth rug before the overstuffed arm chair he’d provided for her, her dark head buried in her arms on the padded seat.  He dropped down to his knees behind her, reaching out to lightly touch her shoulder.

Belle jerked violently away from his touch, her eyes sparkling jewels as she whipped around to glare at him.  “What part didn’t you understand, Rumpelstiltskin? The ‘go’? Or the ‘away’?  If the meaning of those words elude you, I’m certain there’s a dictionary in the library,” she snarked in an icy tone.

A puff of smoke and a handkerchief materialized in his hand.  “Belle, dearie…I…um…I’m…”

“You can’t even say it, can you?” she asked, snatching the handkerchief from him to dry her tears as she gave him her back.  “It shouldn’t surprise me.  The Dark One can’t bend an inch and offer an apology.  I mean really, what would people say?” she scoffed derisively as she stared into the fire.  Another tear slid over her cheek.

Rumpelstiltskin reached out and stroked his hand lightly over her unbound hair.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t expecting…Christmas is a difficult time of year for me,” he admitted ruefully, feeling as if he owed her at least a partial explanation.

“Which is why I was trying to make it better!” she snapped, turning so she could face him.  She grabbed his hand in both of hers, squeezing tightly.  “I was trying to make you happy!”

A sad smile curled his lips, the same sadness reflected in his amber eyes.  “Only you would try to make the monster happy,” he murmured.  “I don’t deserve happiness, Belle.  I’ve done too many horrible unspeakable things in my past to ever—“

“Everyone deserves happiness, Rumpel.”

“I don’t.”  He moved off his knees to sit on the rug, his back against the chair, stretching his legs out before him.  He ducked his head, refusing to argue with her, especially when she was looking at him with those tear-bright eyes.  Tears that he had caused.  “But I can give you happiness, dearie.”

She brushed away the curls that had fallen over his eyes that shielded him from her appraising gaze.  “You do…more often than not,” she said softly, feeling the heat and anger drain out of her.

He shook his head.  “No, that’s not what I meant,” he said, raising his eyes to look at her, searching her face.  “I can give you true happiness.  I can break our deal and return you to your family.”  He pressed a finger to her lips, trying to ignore their softness beneath his touch, when she began to protest.  “The ogres won’t return; you have my word, but you can go back to your life and find your happy ending.  I could even take away the memory of your time here so you wouldn’t have it to haunt your dreams.”

“No,” she cried, a sob wrenching from her chest.  “No, this is my home now.  You are my family…the only one I want.  It’s why I get so angry when you push me away.”

The imp was tempted to strike the side of his head with the heel of his hand, because surely he was hearing things.  She couldn’t possibly be saying that she wanted to stay with him.  Not after the abominable way he’d treated her.  “It would be for the best.  I’m sure your betrothed would be ecstatic,” he retorted bitterly.

Belle dried the last of her tears and stared down at the crumpled bit of linen and lace in her hands, trying to buy herself time to come up with a solution that would benefit them both.  Her sorcerer was running, hiding behind his fear of what her continued stay at the castle could mean for him.  “If you alter the deal, and keep your promise that the ogres won’t return to Avonlea…the price of the magic will fall to you to pay.  I--”

“It is of no matter,” he interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand.

She snorted in disbelief.  “You shouldn’t have to pay it.  It falls to me.  It was my kingdom you saved.”

“I’m the Dark One, dearie.  I have enough power to do as I like.”  His eyes shone with impish delight for a moment.  “I’ll even give you a Christmas present before I bring you home if you like.  Anything you wish.”

Belle bit down on her lip to prevent herself from shouting Aha!  She had him now.  His mind was made up.  He was determined to grant her freedom and leave her with no memory of him.  She couldn’t…wouldn’t…allow it.  She loved him and would not see her happy ending burn to ash because he was afraid.  Hope flared to life within her and she cast her own fears aside.  Be brave!

His head dropped back onto the cushioned seat of the chair as he waited for her to make up her mind, rubbing one hand wearily over his brow.  He started violently when he felt her move onto his lap, her rose colored skirt hiked up to her thighs as her knees came to rest on either side of his hips.  “Belle!”

She blushed scarlet as she settled herself atop him, biting back a moan as his cock twitched against her core through the leather covering his groin.  Well, at least she knew he wasn’t completely immune to her charms.  “I know what I want…and no it’s not that so get your mind out of the gutter, Rumpelstiltskin,” she scolded.  Oh, she was absolutely certain the evening would end pleasantly, but she didn’t want either of them to be distracted until a new deal could be made.

He shifted uncomfortably, realizing this wouldn’t end well.  His body was already betraying him from her close proximity.  He was only human…well, somewhere in there beneath all the glitter and scales.  And he didn’t want her to move.  He was tired of fighting his feelings for her, whatever they may be.  He’d already ruined her Christmas; he wasn’t going to push her away now.  He wanted one moment to feel her touch before he sent her away and this was it.  “So, what is it you would like as your gift?” he asked, wondering what to do with his hands as they fluttered uselessly about her hips.

“I trust that this gift is to be anything I desire?  You won’t change your mind once you hear what I want?  Those were your words, Rumpel…anything,” she reminded him, a hint of warning in her tone.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.  Had he really been so careless as to offer anything?  How had he fallen into the same trap as the desperate souls he dealt with?  It was, however, too late now.  “Anything you desire, dearie.  You have my word,” he vowed, already feeling the stinging brush of magic at his fingertips.

A triumphant smile blossomed on her perfect mouth and he fisted her skirt in his hands to stop himself from drawing her nearer and claiming her lips with his own.  “I want one hour of honesty…one hour where neither of us can hide from the other.  Whatever we ask of one another, neither of us will be able to conceal the truth.”

The imp’s eyes widened with panic.  Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly.  “But, Belle—“

A finger to his lips cut him off, her other hand sliding along his waistcoat over his heart.  “Ah, ah, you promised,” she fairly purred with pleasure.  “I have nothing to hide from you, Rumpel.  This is what I want more than anything.  It is my one chance to know you.  And perhaps you’ll change your mind about sending me home when the hour is up?”

The temptation was greater than he’d ever felt before.  The chance to delve into the heart of his girl, to have her spill all her secrets…was overwhelming.  But you’ll have to let her in, you fool!  the Dark One hissed scornfully at the back of his mind.  “You…ah…you might not like what you hear,” he warned.

“This is what I want,” she reiterated as she arched a brow at him, stubbornly refusing to change her mind.

“This is such a bad idea,” he said, shaking his head as he raised his hands and enveloped them both in a thin wisp of crimson smoke.  She shook her head to clear it as she felt his magic practically seep into her pores.  “Well?  Do you feel any differently?”

She hiccupped and a wisp of crimson smoke escaped her lips.

“That’s different,” he commented dryly, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.  Her eyes were clear, however, so he was certain she wasn’t drunk on his magic.  “Very well, dearie. I’m sure you’re just burning with questions.”

“Tell me why you hate Christmas,” she said, blurting out the first question she could think of.

He frowned darkly at her, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he fought against the magic compelling him to spill all his secrets.  “Because of my son,” he snarled out through clenched teeth.  “Before I became the Dark One, I was just a spinner…a poor one at that.  Being the village coward didn’t help matters.  Damnit!” he cursed, contemplating banishing his tongue from his mouth for the duration of the experience.

There was no revulsion, pity or sneering disdain in her gaze, however, when he looked up at her.  Merely open curiosity.  “Go on, Rumpel.”

“There was little enough money for food for my boy.  Christmas is a parent’s worst nightmare when there is no money for presents.  On Christmas day, he would see what the other children had received and wonder why.  He never…he never blamed me,” he choked out, feeling the burning at his eyes as he fought to keep the tears from spilling over.

“He must have been a remarkable child.  I wish I could have known him,” she whispered softly, her fingers brushing the hair away from his eyes.  “You sound like you were a wonderful father.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted, all the bitterness long locked away in his soul coming to the fore in that one sound.  “Hardly.  I took on this curse to save my boy from being conscripted into the ogre war.  I wanted to save him, and I did nothing but drive him away.”

Belle leaned forward against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.  “What happened?” she asked gently, her hand creeping along the bare skin revealed by his open collar.

“He didn’t like what the curse was doing to me.  He wanted a way out, wanted his father back.  I made a deal with him…that if he could somehow find a way to break the curse, I would do it.  I never thought he would.  A meddlesome fairy gave him a magic bean, one that would take us to a land with no magic.”

“And you didn’t want to go,” she murmured, realizing how important his magic was to him.

“No.  I couldn’t go back to being what I was before…poor, lame…useless.  I couldn’t let go of my power where I couldn’t provide for my boy.  That portal opened and I froze.  I remembered another portal and another time...” he said, his expression warning her not to ask.  “And I just couldn’t go through with it.  I tried to hold onto him, to keep him from slipping away from me, but…I let him go.  It is the one and only deal I have ever broken, Belle.  It was on Christmas.”

She sat up and cupped his face in her warm palms.  “Oh, Rumpel, I’m so sorry.  If I had known…”

“My past shouldn’t take away your present happiness, though, Belle.  If you had been with your family, you would have no doubt had a wonderful holiday.  Instead the beast of the Dark Castle lost his temper and destroyed everything you worked so hard to create,” he scoffed.

She snorted.  “If I had been home, Gaston would have been deep in his cups and I would have been trying to find the best place to hide from his amorous pursuit,” she said dryly, her tone filled with derision.

“What?!” he snarled, jealousy clawing at his chest.

Belle sat up, her fingers twisting upon themselves nervously, recoiling from the outrage in his voice.  She’d been so relieved to see he’d no longer been angry when he’d come to her room and she didn’t want to bear the brunt of his anger now when they were actually…finally…communicating.

He cupped her chin gently and brought her closer, his face mere inches from hers, his eyes blazing.  “What. Did. He. Do. To. You?” he demanded in a sinister hiss.

She smiled, loving him all the more for his concern on her behalf.  “It’s ok,” she whispered, her hand closing over the one that held her chin, her thumb rubbing soothingly over his knuckles.  “He was my betrothed, Rumpel, therefore it was his right by contract…or so he thought.  He was rather insistent, regardless of my feelings on the matter, and after the first time he caught me alone at one of my father’s galas, I became very adept at hiding, and when I couldn’t hide, I made sure I had someone with me at all times.  I can’t tell you how grateful I was when one of his men interrupted.  Otherwise…”  She dropped a kiss to his palm, trying her best to reassure him.  “I am a maid, Rumpelstiltskin.”

His arms came around her, hauling her against his brocade and silk covered chest, his blackened nails carding through her hair.  Her arms went about him, her own nails stroking lightly along his sides.  His eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of her wrapped in his embrace.  He doubted he would ever tire of having her there, just as he would never understand how she didn’t recoil from him with revulsion.  But he would never know, not when he would be returning her to her family.  Now he would have to do something about her unwanted betrothed, however.  He wouldn’t leave her there to be subjected to the brute’s advances.

“Please don’t send me away,” she whispered fervently, her warm breath fanning hotly against the hollow of his throat.  “I promised you forever.  Please don’t break our deal.”

He shivered, wondering what it would be like to have her warm breath, her lips, her tongue on other parts of his body and the thought brought a fresh surge of lust to his cock.  He groaned and held her tighter.  “It would be best.  I never should have demanded you in that deal.”

She raised her eyes to him, grateful that he let her go enough to do so.  “Why did you…ask for me, I mean?” she asked, mentally patting herself on the back for the truth spell.  He would have to be honest.  He didn’t have a choice.  “And don’t give me that tripe about the magic demanding it, or say it was because I was my father’s greatest treasure,” she snorted.  “I know my papa loves me, but he loves Avonlea and his title more.  Otherwise, he’d never have agreed to an alliance with Gaston.”

The sorcerer clamped his lips firmly together, dreading the moment he’d no longer be able to conceal that little tidbit of information from her.  She’d think him weak, pathetic and needy.  She’d be happy to see the last of him after that confession.  He gnashed his teeth together as sweat beaded on his brow, a whimper sounding low in his throat.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, leaning forward and brushing her lips lightly to his.  He gasped, his mouth hanging open in surprise.  “Tell me.”

“B-Because,” he stammered, his tongue darting out to catch that brief taste of her lips.  “Because you looked at me like a man instead of what I truly am, Belle.  I was tired of being alone, tired of having no one to share my life with, and you gave me…” he couldn’t say it.  It took every ounce of concentration he had, but he refused to give in to the compulsion.

“Hope,” she whispered.

His brow dropped against her shoulder as he nodded.  He turned his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, his fingers skimming up the length of her back as her scent washed over him, soothing the beast.

“Don’t send me away, Rum.  Our deal brought us together, but it’s not why I stayed.”  She wrapped an arm about his shoulders, her other hand delving beneath his hair to caress the knot of tension at his nape.

A wry smirk pulled at his mouth as he lifted his head to meet her gaze.  “No one breaks deals with me, dearie.”

One dark auburn brow rose in question.  “Do you really think I couldn’t have convinced you to let me out of our deal if that’s what I really wanted?” she asked, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she waited for his answer.  “I mean, here you are trying to rid yourself of me now.”

“Why do you want to stay so badly?” he asked, his brow furrowed in befuddlement, flummoxed as to why someone…anyone… would willingly choose to be with him.  Everyone he’d ever cared about had left.  Why should she be any different?

She didn’t hesitate, though her heart beat madly in her chest, a wounded bird fighting to be free of its cage.  “Because I love you, Rumpelstiltskin…all of you.  I love the spinner and the beast, the light you try to hide from me, and the darkness you show to the world.  I want to be with you.  I love you.  Don’t send me away.  Keep me.  Let us find our happiness, our forever…together.  Let me love you."

For the first time in three centuries, the Dark One didn’t have any words to convey the mixture of emotions fighting for dominance in his chest.  And she didn’t give him a chance to protest, fisting her hand gently in the curls she’d been playing with, drawing him forward as her lips descended to his.  Her lips were so soft over his own chafed ones, and he froze in stunned disbelief as she captured his lower lips between her own, sucking gently.  It was a trick.  It had to be…but the spell.  His magic had rarely ever failed him and he knew, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, she was speaking the truth.

It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he pushed her back, cradling her face in his palms as he searched her face.  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, barely recognizing his voice so blanketed by emotion.  “I’ve destroyed everything I’ve ever loved.  I don’t want to do that to you.”

Belle felt the tears prickle at her eyes, but she hauled in a deep breath to keep them at bay.  She had to be strong, to be brave to battle against his walls.  “Love isn’t easy, Rum.  It will take a lot of hard work, but do you really want to give up on it before it can even begin?  I need you, and if you look deep down and admit it to yourself, I think you need me too.” She drew back suddenly.  “Or is it that you don’t want me?”

“Gods, woman!! Yes I want you.  That’s part of the problem.  All I do is walk about the castle, trailing after you like some lecherous stalking beast.  It drives me mad!”  He clamped a hand over his mouth in dismay at the things spouting from his mouth due to the compulsion of the truth spell.  It didn’t help when she giggled.  “It’s not bloody well funny!”

“No it’s not,” she agreed, striving for a stern expression and failing miserably.  “It’s been torture, wondering if you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

He clasped her tightly to him, his lips trailing over her collarbone.  “Are you sure this is what you want, Belle?  I have so many enemies.  What if--”

Again, she didn’t hesitate, the answer ready on her lips as she pressed closer to his questing mouth.  “You’ll protect me.  Just as you always do,” she said confidently.  In the four and a half months she’d been with him, she’d already had to face an outlaw breaking in to rob him and a bevy of evil enchantresses bent on…yes, robbing him.  It would have been a quaint little adventure without the whole kidnapping and life in peril thing, however.  Perhaps if he wasn’t such a hoarder of magical objects they could find some peace.  “Just don’t let me go,” she gasped as his hands slid up the smooth plane of her back and curled over her shoulders, pulling her back so his tongue could delve between her breasts.  “Promise me, Rum. Forever.”

“I promise, love, I promise.  Forever,” he murmured, the sound muffled against her soft flesh.  He sobered a bit with that softly spoken vow.  The magic of their verbal contract would bind her to him always.  She would never be able to leave him.  “Belle, if you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

His awe-filled gaze raked her face.  Never had he had anyone choose him before and the thought was staggering.  He wanted more than anything in that moment to show her how sorry he was for causing her earlier upset.  He wanted their forever to start out on the right foot…and perhaps make a better memory of the holiday he’d come to despise.  She loved him, however impossible it seemed.  She deserved a bit of Christmas cheer if it would make her happy.

“You’re wearing your plotting face, Rum,” she said worriedly as she tilted her head to the side and regarded him through narrowed eyes.  She’d watched the myriad of expressions cross his weathered features and having seen it happen often in her time with him, she had reason for concern.  Her face fell further, dismay replacing the calm wariness she wore as he gently set her off his lap and rose to his feet.  She took a deep shuddering breath and clamped her teeth over her lower lip to still its trembling.

“Belle, no, dearie,” he said reassuringly as he drew her into the circle of his arms.  

“I’m not pushing you away, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied, pressing her face into the side of his warm neck and closing her eyes.

He laughed softly, not the impish giggles that so unnerved his clients, but a deep rumbling sound that came from his heart.  “It might take some time, but I will try to be more open with you.”

“I don’t want you to change, Rumpelstiltskin.  I love you for who you are, but it would be nice if you wouldn’t constantly run from me when things grow uncomfortable.  Talk to me, perhaps, instead of shutting me out?” she asked, her nose nuzzling against his ear.

He nodded his head rapidly up and down.  He’d give her anything she desired, promise her anything if she would continue doing that… He snapped his head up, knowing he’d never accomplish his task if he remained in the room with her.  Slowly, he backed away from her, his hands held out before him to ward her off.

“You…ah…have your bath and dress for bed and…”

“Bed?” she asked, one brow rising in interest as her lips curled up into a seductive smile.

He felt his mouth go dry, making speech nearly impossible as he backed towards the door.  “Yes!  Um…I’ll be back soon to fetch you,” he stammered, his hand fumbling for the door knob as she stalked towards him.

“Fetch me?” she asked, her lips hesitantly forming the words.  His gaze dropped to her mouth as she spoke, suddenly fascinated by the way they moved over the words.  “When I’m already in my nightclothes?”

“Just a short walk.  It’s not as if we’re leaving the castle,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper as he inched the door open a crack.  He had to get out before the plan slowly formulating in his devious mind was completely ruined.

“We?” she asked, brightening considerably.

“Bath!” he snapped, panicking as she moved closer.  He poofed out of the room, giving up trying to get out of the door, her tinkling laughter echoing after him.

X*X*X*X*X

Rumpelstiltskin toweled his hair dry and scowled darkly at the modifications he’d made to his bedroom.  He tossed the towel back into the open doorway of his bathing chamber and with a snap of his spell clever fingers, clothed himself in his sleeping attire.  Why was this a good idea, again?  He glanced down at the calf-length black cotton pants and simple linen tunic with its open collar and shrugged.  Perhaps he’d thought it a wise decision at the time because it would cast him in a softer light?  Maybe she’d see more of the man instead of the monster?  She’d seen quite a bit too much of the latter lately.

His bedroom wasn’t anything to snicker at either.  The bed dominated the far wall with its luxurious silk hangings of crimson and gold set beneath a bank of windows covered in heavy drapes.  Maybe if he opened them?  She might like the view of the falling snow against the backdrop of brightly sparkling stars and the towering trees that dotted the mountain.  The sitting room, with its overstuffed armchairs and settee in gold and crimson as well, was already bedecked in Christmas greenery, the hearth fire crackling pleasantly.  There was even a small tree in the corner, fully bedecked in festive splendor, the ornament Belle had lovingly painted front and center and a bevy of presents for his girl peeked from beneath its branches.  For once he wanted his chamber to be warm and inviting, rather than cold and impersonal.  Before it had been just a place to lay his head when exhaustion took him and forced him to sleep.   Now he wanted it to be someplace his Belle would find comfortable, a space within the castle she would enjoy…to its fullest.

He could have redecorated the Great Hall, but he hadn’t wanted to revisit the earlier scene of his latest bit of temper.  He’d wanted a cozy intimate setting to lull her into happiness and what could he make more cozy and welcoming than his own chamber?  But what if she didn’t like the decorations he’d chosen?  They weren’t the same ones she’d used to decorate the Great Hall, those having been banished to the storage closet.  There was no way he would have had time to rummage through the mess he’d made.  And there was indeed a mess, he thought with a grimace.  He laid a hand against the side of the covered platter sitting on the small table set for two in the corner, assuring himself their meal would still be hot when he went to fetch her from her room.  Yet, he still felt something was missing.  He needed advice, he thought with a groan.  He moved over to the ornate free standing mirror in the corner and glared at the drape, rubbing his thumb against his fingers in agitation while he tried to make up his mind.

The imp whipped the drape off and tossed it on the bed, the surface murky as a mist swirled within, awaiting its master’s command.  “Hatter!” he snapped, unable to quite believe he was having to call on his old friend for such frivolity.  Well, surely Belle wouldn’t think it frivolous…would she?  Oh hell!

A sleepy smile and a yawn greeted him, and unless Jefferson had shrunk about three feet and morphed into a teenage girl, Rumpelstiltskin could say without a doubt that it wasn’t him.  “Hi, Uncle Rum,” Grace greeted him.

“Hello, pet.  What are you doing with my mirror, hm?  Where’s your papa?” he asked in the warm indulgent tone he reserved for the hatter’s daughter.  She was a precious child who saw through his rough demeanor and the mask of the imp, one who had welcomed him as a beloved relative rather than shrinking back in horror when she’d first accompanied her father to the Dark Castle.

“Papa thought it would look nice in my room, although he when he brought it in last month he was mumbling something about interfering imps and not wanting said imp to be able to spy on him,” she said with a giggle at his rather exasperated expression.  “Would you like me to wake him?  He might have had just a bit too much wine with our Christmas feast.”

Rumpelstiltskin debated on whether he should disturb the man before nodding.  “Yes, dearie, go wake him.  It’s rather imperative that I speak to him.”  He himself had been woken more than once to rush to Jefferson’s aid.  It was time the hatter returned the favor.

He tapped his bare foot, the sound muffled against the Agrabahan rug as he crossed his arms impatiently over his chest.  Finally Jefferson dragged himself into his daughter’s room to stand before the mirror, yawning widely.

“Rumpels,” Jefferson slurred sleepily.  “To what do I owe the…well I can’t say it’s much of a pleasure to have you wake me out of a sound sleep.”

“What the hell is that on your feet?” The sorcerer asked, his brows disappearing beneath his wild curls.

Jefferson looked down, past his robe and pajamas to the fluffy bunny slippers on his large feet.  “Christmas gift from my Gracie.  You like?  I think there might have been a pair or two left at the shop where she bought them in Longborne.”  He turned away from the mirror.  “Grace, didn’t you get these at—“

“Hatter!!” he growled, raking a frustrated hand through his hair.  “I do not want to know where you got bunny slippers.”

“So whatcha want?” Jefferson asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  “If it’s a job, Belle’s going to have to watch Grace.  Her auntie is out of town with that new husband of hers and—“

Rumpelstiltskin smacked his face with his palm.  “If you would cease your prattling for five seconds, I would get to the heart of my dilemma!”

Jefferson yawned widely and arched a brow, his expression clearly bored in the face of the Dark One’s upset.  “Well?”

The imp turned the mirror in the direction of the sitting room so his friend could see the festive decorations.  “What do you think of the tree?  Should I have gone with the blue or the purple ornaments?” he said, quickly changing out the decorations so the man could choose.  “What do you think Belle would like?  I could go with silver and gold too, perhaps.”

Jefferson’s face screwed up into a look of baffled puzzlement.  “Belle?  Wait a minute…is that your bedroom?” he asked, clearly confused.  “Why are there Christmas decorations in your bedroom?  I thought you hated Christmas.”

“I do, but Belle loves the infernal holiday and I’m doing this for her,” he hissed, exasperated that the hatter hadn’t answered his question and he was no closer to choosing.

“But it’s in your bedroom,” the man persisted.  “I might understand this better if this were in the Great Hall, but IT’S YOUR BEDROOM!!  Where is Belle?  Is she in there with you?” he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl over Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder.

“NO!” the imp said defensively, a rather guilty expression on his face.  “Not yet.”

“AHA!!” Jefferson shrieked, pointing a finger.  “You’re planning on seducing her!”

“I would never do anything Belle didn’t want,” he said, glowering at the hatter for even suggesting such a thing.

“That wasn’t a denial.”

“Hatter!  Just pick a fucking color!!” he snarled.

“I think Belle would like blue and silver, Uncle Rum,” came Grace’s voice from behind her father.  “Or crimson and gold?  I think she would like either.  Personally, I would go with the silver and gold, though.”

“Go to bed!” they both yelled.

Grace rolled her eyes and slipped back beneath her covers, turning on her side and giving them her back.  “They barge into my room and I get scolded.  How is that fair?” she grumbled with a yawn.

“Why do I even bother with you?” the imp hissed, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the hatter’s daughter any further.

“I swear, Rumpelstiltskin, if you hurt our girl…” he left the threat open, not quite awake enough to come up with something dire enough to intimidate the Dark One.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed.  “I’m not going to hurt her, Jefferson.  I—“

“—love her.  Have you told her?” he asked solemnly, no longer wishing to goad his friend.

“No,” he said, not even attempting to lie to the man.

“She loves you too, Rumpel.  She won’t care in the least what color is decorating the tree, just so long as the gesture comes from your heart.  Tell her,” Jefferson said seriously.

“Goodnight, hatter.”

Jefferson yawned again and rubbed at the back of his neck as the mirror went back to its natural silvery surface and reflected his image back at him.  “Do you think Uncle Rum is going to marry Belle?” Grace asked, leaning up on an elbow to look at her father.

“I don’t know, rabbit.”

“I hope so.  He needs a little happiness,” she said, fluffing her pillow and lying back down.

“I do too, Gracie.  I do too.”

X*X*X*X*X

Belle hummed happily as she sat at her vanity, slowly pulling her brush through her damp tresses in an effort to dry them.  She stared at her reflection in the mirror…one of the few in the castle he’d charmed himself and deemed safe for use…hardly recognizing the girl staring back at her.  Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy tint, her eyes sparkled with happiness and her skin nigh glowed.  Her master…her Rumpelstiltskin, she amended…wanted her and was going to let her stay.  Just the thought of being parted from him had caused her stomach to twist violently.  He was her happy ending…beginning rather…as she was his.  And they’d be starting on that this evening if she had any say in the matter.  With his confession, she’d made up her mind that she wouldn’t let him push her away any longer, not now that she was assured of his feelings for her.  It may not be love, yet, at least on his part, but that wouldn’t deter her.  She knew how much he cared, could see the way his eyes softened when he gazed at her when he thought she wasn’t looking at her.  There was little he could hide from her.  She’d always had a gift of seeing past a person’s outer façade to what lay within their heart.  Her master was no different.

Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, pressing a hand firmly to her stomach to quell the fluttering of excitement there.  She just hoped he didn’t lose his nerve at the last moment and run from her.  It happened every time he felt she was getting too close and tonight…tonight she wouldn’t stand for it.

“C-Come in, Rumpel,” she called, answering the soft knock at her door as she set her brush aside and swiveled on the padded bench to face him.  Her smile was filled with warm appreciation as her eyes raked him from head to toe, delighting that he’d peeled away his armor and left himself vulnerable.  She doubted there was a soul alive in the Enchanted Forest who had seen the Dark One in his night clothes.

She rose to her feet and his hesitant smile fell away as he took in her attire, his eyes darkening almost imperceptively.  “W-What are--?  I’d wondered what happened to my blue shirt,” he stammered.

Belle bit her lip as she glanced down at his royal blue silk shirt that swathed her body, the hem falling just past mid-thigh and the fluffy blue and black striped wool socks covering her feet.  “Well, you did ask that I dress for bed, and…this is what I wear to bed, Rumpel,” she said softly as she padded across the thick carpet to stand before him.

He reached out to flick his fingers at her collar, rubbing the silk between his fingers, imagining her curled up in her bed with his scent surrounding her, the fabric caressing her skin.  He took a deep shuddering breath.  “You sleep in my clothes?  What happened to the nightdress I gave you when you first came here?” he asked in a throaty whisper as the blood fled from his head and ventured south to fill his already straining cock.

She laid her hand along his jaw, her thumb brushing softly against his weathered cheek as she leaned up on her toes to press a tender kiss to his parted lips.  “I like your shirt better.  If I couldn’t sleep with you, I figured it was the next best thing,” she purred against the corner of his mouth as her heart fluttered madly.  She didn’t know where her boldness was coming from, but she was thankful for it.

His arms slipped about her waist as he pulled her forward, flush with his body, holding her tightly as his erection pressed into the softness of her belly.  He plundered her mouth, all thought of control leeching out of him in the face of her confession.  She whimpered softly as his sharp teeth bit into her soft lower lip, her arms sliding around his neck to hold tightly to him for balance.  The kiss was all lips, teeth and tongue as she clung to him, swept away on a fresh wave of desire.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, something reminded him of the evening he’d planned for her and he forced himself back to reality.  He’d wanted to slowly introduce her to his desire, not pounce on her like a ravaging beast and he’d done exactly that in the first three minutes of being in her presence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, resting his brow on hers as they struggled to catch their breath, his hands stroking her sides.

“I’m not,” she murmured with a chuckle.  “I think I’ve waited quite long enough to have you kiss me like that, thank you very much.”

He snorted.  “Only you would want to kiss the beast.”

She entwined her fingers with his and smiled brightly.  “My beast,” she said warmly, the words falling from her lips with such confidence he didn’t dare refute her claim.  “Now where are we going?”

“I was wondering how long it would be before your innate curiosity got the better of you,” he said, leading her up the stairs and down a dark corridor that had previously been forbidden to her.  She was practically trembling with anticipation.  It couldn’t be due to the cold as he tried to keep the castle a bit warmer than he normally would in deference to her low tolerance for the harsh climate atop the mountain.

He pulled her to a stop before the great double doors at the end of the corridor and she turned her wide eyes to him.  “Your bedchamber?” she asked, pressing herself closer to his side, the nerves battering fervently at her insides.

Rumpelstiltskin regarded her uneasily, knowing there would be no coming back from this.  If he let her in, she would dig in with her little claws and never let go.  Gods, yes!!!  The Dark One rolled his eyes and shuffled back to the farthest reaches of Rumpelstiltskin’s mind, not wanting any part of the fuzzy feelings welling up in his host.  He nodded, casting her a smile that came out more as a grimace as he opened the door and led her inside.

Belle blinked, words failing her as she lifted her hands to cover her gaping mouth.  The room was aglow in muted candlelight, the crackling fire in the hearth and what seemed like a multitude of fairy lights blinking at her from the Christmas tree in the corner of his sitting room.  “Oh, Rum,” she breathed, unmindful of the tears that spilled over her lashes.  To think what it had cost him to do this for her considering his feelings of animosity towards the holiday she loved.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry again,” he said, wrapping his arms about her waist from behind and dropping a kiss to her temple.

She took in the silver and gold decorations, her eyes falling on the ornament she’d given him in the center and bringing more tears to spill down her cheeks.  “It’s wonderful, but…you didn’t have to do this,” she insisted.  She stepped around the settee and poked one of the lights with her finger, laughing delightedly when it flitted to another part of the tree.  He’d added little enchanted lights, foregoing capturing a bevy of fairies to hang on the three.  Well, it’s definitely a start, she thought with amusement.

“I wanted to show you I meant what I said earlier.  I…I want to try, Belle.  I do want this…whatever it is between us…to work,” he said, stumbling over his twisted tongue as he laid himself bare before her.

“It will,” she said with a firm nod of her head.

He took a seat on the settee and pulled her down to sit next to him.  “I’m sorry I ruined it earlier,” he mumbled almost incoherently.  She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the small gesture assuring him she’d forgiven him and moved on and that he shouldn’t dwell on it.  “Um…do you want to open your presents now?” he asked hesitantly, squelching the memories of other Christmases when he hadn’t had anything to put under a tree for his boy.  Baelfire would be happy that his father had someone to share the holiday with now, he was sure.

“Rumpel, I don’t need any presents.  You’ve already given me the best gift,” she said shyly as she snuggled into his side and nuzzled her nose against his neck.  Her hand caressed the soft tunic he wore over his heart.  “You let me in.”

The imp huffed a short laugh and slid off the settee to rummage under the branches of their tree.  “Rubbish!  All fair princesses and former little maids deserve presents,” he snarked with a grin, holding his hand out to her from where he knelt by the tree, gesturing for her to join him.

Reluctantly, she sat next to him on the plush carpet, taking the first gaily wrapped gift from his hands.  “I still say this is unnecessary…but if it will make you happy.”  She hung her head a bit.  “I don’t have anything for you,” she said sadly.

He pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.  “You already did,” he murmured meaningfully before sitting back on his heels.  “Now open your presents.”

She tore into the silver paper with its intricately tied gold ribbons with reckless abandon.  When she was done, she had four new dresses similar to the rose colored gown he’d gifted to her earlier in the week with all the accoutrements needed to turn her out properly, several scraps of satin and lace that were his idea of night dresses, a large tome of fairy tales, a new tea set…this one white with violets painted in delicate lines on the cups and tea pot, jeweled hair pins and a new cloak.  “This is entirely too much, Rumpelstiltskin, but thank you,” she said, looping her arms about his neck and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“You forgot one,” he chuckled, pressing a small box into her hand as she drew back.

“Rum,” she admonished with a shake of her head as she removed the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box.  Her lips parted on a gasp, her eyes rising swiftly to meet his as she took in the ring nestled in the black velvet interior.

He took the box from her and lifted out the delicate filigree ring in the shape of a dragon, its ruby eyes sparkling in the glow of the twinkling lights on the tree.  He took her left hand, poising it to slip onto her finger.  “If you’ll have it?  It will proclaim you mine to all who see it…my lady of the Dark Castle…the Dark One’s bride,” he said quietly, holding his breath as he waited for her to take in the weight of his words.  “It will be how others see you, Belle.  Are you sure this is what you wish?”

“My heart has chosen you, Rumpelstiltskin.  I don’t care how others see us,” she promised as he slipped the delicate ring on her finger and pressed his lips to her knuckles.  “Actually, I rather like that title.  It’s one I much prefer to High Princess of Avonlea.”

His smile was possessive as he flipped her hand over and pressed another kiss to her palm.  She felt it against her skin just as surely as he felt the slight tremor radiate from her palm to travel up her arm.  “Mine,” he whispered, moving on to her wrist, his tongue snaking out to trace the delicate veins beneath her translucent flesh.

“Yours,” she returned, brushing the hair back where it had fallen over his eyes.

His eyes flared hotly as he pulled her to her feet, but he quelled his desire to carry her off to bed and ushered her to the small table where he’d set their meal.  “Now, dearie, you can have dinner before I allow you to retire,” he said, pulling out a chair for her to sit.

She frowned down at the one platter of the meal she’d cajoled from the pantry he’d brought up to his room for them.  “Um…Rumpel?  Why is there so little of our meal?  There was an entire feast when you banished it back to the food locker.”

He dropped into his own seat and leaned back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, a wry smirk curling up one corner of his mouth.  “I may have had a small incident with the pantry that…ah…resulted in a slight mishap.”

Belle cocked a brow at him.  “A slight mishap?”

“I’m debating ridding my castle of that locker and replacing it with one less…hostile,” he admitted ruefully.  At least he’d cleaned up the mess in the kitchen before she’d been able to stumble upon it and had taken a bath to rid himself of the detritus of food that had clung to his person.  If he hadn’t explained the food was for Belle, he’d likely have had nothing to share with her this evening.

“What happened?”

He shook his head, denying her inquisitiveness.  “Never you mind, dearie.  Eat up.  Can’t have you wasting away to nothing.”

She rose from the table and stacked the dishes together, then pushed the platter of food closer to her master.  “Humph, as if you have room to talk.  A strong wind would take you if you went outside without the weight of all that dragon hide you wear,” she snarked, settling herself onto his lap and picking up the fork she’d left on the table.

He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, the thought of her bare thighs pressed so closely to his groin giving him a pleasant distraction.  He watched her closely as she sliced into one of the sweet potatoes, dripping with syrup and held it to his lips, opening for her before it dripped onto both of them.  If anyone had asked him that morning what he’d be doing that evening, the thought of Belle sitting atop his lap feeding him Christmas delicacies would not have been his answer.

Belle held a slice of the roast goose breast to his lips, a puzzled frown knitting her brow as she too took a bite.  “Rumple, where does the food come from?  I’ve always wondered about that enchanted locker.  Do you have elves in there that make it or something?” she asked, reaching for a fluffy roll dripping with butter.

“Does it matter?” he asked, stripping the bacon away from a piece of asparagus and popping it into his mouth before offering the bit of green vegetable to Belle.

“Yes, it matters.  I’m curious.”

He sighed, just knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.  “My magic seeks out what I want, what I like, or what I ask for and gold is left in its place.  I don’t really know whose dinner table it rests on before it appears in the locker, nor do I care.”

Belle gaped at him and shoved a forkful of stuffing into his mouth a bit more forcefully than she’d intended.  “Rumpelstiltskin, are you telling me you’re pilfering pies from the windowsill, so to speak?”

He coughed a bit and swallowed the stuffing, shrugging.  “It’s not as if I’m not offering compensation!” he said defensively.  “Saves having to go to the market.”

She shook her head and hid her smile behind her goblet of wine.  It took them longer to finish their meal, feeding each other as they were, but she relished the experience, never having felt closer to him.  She’d despaired of ever having a moment with him like this.  It was her own little Christmas miracle, her own bit of holiday magic and she held it close to her heart, never wanting it to end.

A pleasant lassitude settled over her, making her content to stay there on his lap with the tree glittering with its holiday splendor and the crackling of the fire lulling her into drowsiness, but nothing aside from the castle crumbling around them could have forced her from his embrace.  She yawned widely and nuzzled her face against his neck, reveling in the shiver that skipped through his wiry frame.

“Alright, dearie, time for bed,” he said, pressing a kiss to her brow, yet making no move to release her to escort her back to her room.  “Did you get everything you desired for Christmas?”

Belle sat up, straight so she could see him clearly, not wanting him to mistake her by look or deed.  There would be no misunderstandings between them tonight…nor in the future if she had anything to say about it.  She bit down hard on her lower lip, telling herself to be brave, it not going unnoticed how his gaze dropped longingly to her mouth as if he’d like nothing better than to rescue that soft bit of flesh from her teeth.  “There’s only one thing I really wanted for Christmas.  Not to say I’m not grateful for what you’ve given me, Rumpel, because I am,” she assured him, her fingertips tracing along the curve of his jaw.

“What is it you want, sweetling?” he asked, his voice no more than a raspy whisper as he watched her, his eyes soft, open, revealing all the hope he’d ever let himself feel.  He found it no easier to move, the air in his lungs freezing, than if she’d held his dagger to his chest and commanded him.  He was completely in her thrall and instead of the idea leaving him weak and trembling with fear, he burned with anticipation of her wishes.  For once he wasn’t burning with need to make a deal, but wanting only to make her fondest dreams come to life without the desire for anything in return.

“You, my Rumpel…only you.”

He leaned into the warmth of her palm, craving her touch, needing it more than a starving man needed sustenance.  The pad of her thumb brushed softly against his lips and he felt himself flooded with her light, her love for him a tangible thing between them.  It spread through him like a brush fire, one that would never be quenched, but fueled by the myriad emotions the lay between them.  “Belle, you can’t want…this,” he said in an agonized whisper, gesturing a hand over himself as he lowered his gaze.  “You deserve better than ravishment by the beast.  It is enough that you love me…that you want to spend your life with me.”

A beatific smile spread over her face, making him think her even more beautiful if that were possible and she urged him closer, brushing her lips to his softly, slowly as she battled against the walls of self-loathing and the belief that no one could want him.  He truly believed he was unlovable and unworthy of such a delicate and rare emotion.  She would just have to set out to prove him wrong.  “I know what I want, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’ve always known,” she breathed, her warm breath fanning over his lips.  “I want you.”

The most powerful sorcerer in the realms was reduced to a boneless mass of quaking limbs under the onslaught of her touch, her taste, and her softly uttered words of need, yet still his mind protested the truth of her statement.  “Belle…”

Her thumbs caressed the rapidly beating pulse points beneath his jaw as she pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “I’ve wanted you for so long, my darling,” she crooned, reveling in the feeling of him relaxing beneath her touch, his will to protest slowly draining away as he became mesmerized by her allure.  “Do you think I didn’t hear the whispers as you led me away from my father’s castle?  That I would be defiled by the monster, made into his plaything?  Instead you left me be, skirted around me with false bravado to frighten me, but never laid a harmful hand on me.”  Her thumbs were replaced with her lips and he shivered. “Never pressed your advantage as my master.”

“I would never…” he mumbled, his head falling back against the high back of the chair as he surrendered to the softness of her caress.  “…never hurt you, Belle.”

“I know.” Her nose brushed the curls over his ear as her teeth lightly nipped at the lobe and his hand fisted in the silk covering her hip as his other tentatively skirted along her outer thigh, familiarizing himself with the softness of her pale pink flesh. “I see you, Rum,” she purred, her hand trailing over his neck and across his chest to cover his heart.  “I’m tired of loving you from a distance, tired of going to bed each night with only your shirt to keep me warm.  I want you, my love.”  Her tongue swirled about the shell of his ear and she was rewarded with a soft whimper before he could suppress the sound.  “Tonight…every night…I want it to be your arms that hold me…”  His breathing hitched as she melted into his embrace, yielding herself to him.  “Your touch on my skin…” He shuddered, fighting to hold onto his fragile control.  “Your flesh buried in mine…”

She shrieked in surprise as he crushed her to his chest, one hand delving into her hair roughly as he claimed her mouth, a deep growl rumbling up out of his chest as he plundered her.  She was his siren, his mistress and he willingly submitted to her.  He didn’t need a truth spell to assure him of her honesty, for he could feel it in her every action and hear it in her heartfelt words.  She was his…Rumpelstiltskin’s.  Not the Dark One’s.  She didn’t thirst for his power or the riches he could shower upon her.  She craved only him…his heart, his love, his very soul…and he would not deny her.

Jefferson had accused him of seducing her.  Oh how wrong he’d been, for she had been the seducer, using her love for him to bend him to her will.  He slid his arm beneath her knees, never breaking their kiss as he rose from the chair with her cradled lovingly against his chest.  She held fast to his shoulders, one hand curled around his nape, tenderly kneading the muscles there with her delicate fingers and another shudder rippled through him.  How did she know, being the innocent she was, just where to touch him to bring him such pleasure?  Or was it simply the fact that he’d been starved for human contact for far too long?  He didn’t think so.  It was his Belle and only her touch that he craved so desperately.

He laid her gently on the bed and stood back to take her in, wanting to burn the image of her into his memory forever…her gleaming chestnut hair spread out on his pillow, her cerulean eyes dark with desire, and her lips parted with her soft pants and her hands reaching for him.  She was his most erotic fantasy come to life, the siren, who called to him in his lonely bed, made flesh.  For centuries, Christmas was filled with pain and bitterness, and now because of a deal, because he’d let this wonderful little princess into his life, he would have happiness.  It was all too much for him to believe and he dug the claws of his right hand into his arm to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming.

Belle opened her arms to him, beckoning him to come to her.  He was starting to get that slightly worried look in his eyes, the same one he usually sported before he disappeared in a cloud of smoke because she was asking too much of him or encroaching upon uncomfortable territory.  She reached out and grabbed his hand, relieved when he knelt on the bed at her side, her touch seeming to ground him.  When he still made no move to lay beside her, she rose up on her own knees and slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders to steady herself.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, cupping his face in her palm, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“I’m just waiting to wake up,” he murmured in a dry whisper.

In answer, she reached for the hem of his tunic, slowly pulling it up and over his head despite his protests.  He dimmed the glow of the candles with a quick flick of his wrist and she frowned.  The room was still aglow with the lights on the tree and the crackling fire and she found herself thankful he hadn’t plunged the room into darkness where she couldn’t see him at all.  Hesitantly his hands came about her waist, pulling her to him so he could bury his face against her neck.  She could feel the tension in him, the need to flee and she knew it was taking a great amount of courage to remain there in her embrace.

“Does this feel like a dream, Rum?  I’m here, love.  I’ll not leave you,” she whispered, carding her fingers through the soft curls at his nape.  “Don’t be afraid to let me love you.”

Rumpelstiltskin lifted his amber gaze to hers, his soul laid bare and reflected in the deep amber pools of his eyes.  His hands skimmed over the outsides of her thighs, reveling in the feeling of her pale skin beneath his fingertips, the soft moan that escaped her throat and the love shining in her gaze.  She raised her arms, silently encouraging him to lift the blue silk shirt…his shirt…over her head, wanting skin to skin contact as much as he did.  A rosy blush spread across her chest, her neck and in the apples of her cheeks as she ducked her head shyly.  She hauled in a deep lungful of air, fighting against the urge to cover her nakedness.

He cradled her face in his hands and slanted his lips over hers, a low rumble of pleasure sounding in his chest as his lips glided gently over hers.  “My Belle,” he murmured against her mouth as he lowered her back against the pillows, following her down to stretch out at her side.  She whimpered in protest as he pulled back, breaking their kiss so he could see her.  “If I do anything you don’t like, that you’re not comfortable with…”

“You won’t,” she gasped.  Frantic hands pulled at his shoulders, urging him back to her and he wasn’t co-operating.  “Rumpel…” she pleaded.

“You will tell me,” he rasped out with some difficulty, wanting so badly to touch her, to give in to the desire burning hotly between them, but he needed her promise first.  He was terrified of hurting her, of somehow losing control and causing her harm.  She was an innocent, had never lain with anyone and he wouldn’t allow the beast that dwelt within him to hurt her.  She nodded jerkily, her hands delving into his hair and pulling at him insistently.  “Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said, the word barely having had time to leave her mouth before it was covered with his, a little more of his control slipping away as his tongue delved between her parted lips to duel with hers.  Heat unfurled in her lower belly and wrapped around to settle in her lower back, forcing her to arch into his touch as his hand closed over her breast and squeezed gently.

She moaned in protest as his lips left hers, trailing over the smooth line of her jaw to where her pulse beat a rapid tattoo in her throat.  A cry escaped her open mouth as his sharp nail scraped over her nipple at the same times his teeth bit gently into her neck.  Nothing she’d read in her books had ever prepared her for the overload of sensation burning hotly just beneath her skin, nor the deep throbbing ache between her thighs.  She’d certainly never felt the sting of pleasure Rumpelstiltskin evoked in her when Gaston had tried to touch her.

Belle stroked her hands over the smooth plane of his back, the texture of his skin a soft caress beneath her fingertips.  She’d expected him to feel rougher, more hardened from the look of his scales, but he was just as soft to the touch as she was and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d feel the same beneath her lips, her tongue.  She writhed beneath him as his hands slipped lower over her sides to the curve of her hip and she pressed her legs together to try to alleviate the ache burning in her core.

Her imp’s lips drifted lower, his teeth scraping against her collarbone and she keened.  Her eyes never left him as he slowly made his way down her body, the sight of his lips against her pale flesh just as exciting to her as his touch.  Her eyes slammed shut, her head digging into the pillow beneath her head as his lips closed over her nipple.  The heat of his mouth, the rasp of his rough tongue as it swirled around the tight bud made her gasp.

She bucked against him, her hip pressing harshly against his burgeoning erection and he slipped his thigh between hers, grasping her leg and hooking it over his hip.  “Does that feel good, my Belle?” he asked, his fingers replacing his mouth as he continued to tease her flesh.

“Yes!” she cried, rubbing herself against his thigh, seeking much needed friction at her overheated core.  The lace covering her sex rasped against her swollen bundle of nerves as she ground against him and she trembled as a wave of pleasure rippled up her spine and returned to begin again.  “So good.  Don’t stop, Rumpel.  I need more.”

His control was slowly slipping away from him, his need nearly overwhelming as he drew away from her to rise to his knees.  He leaned over her, pressing her grasping hands to the sheets near her hips, needing a moment to clear the haze of lust fogging his brain without her touch to distract him.  Though, he didn’t know if the sight of her flushed with desire lying beneath him was helping.  He wanted to taste every inch of her, spend hours just worshipping her with his lips and tongue and hands.  He wanted to show her exactly how much he cherished her.

“So incredibly beautiful, my love,” he whispered, the endearment slipping easily from his tongue as he dipped his head again to suckle at her breast.  “Mine,” he added possessively, his teeth scraping against her ribs as they skimmed ever farther south.

“Yes!” she keened, her back arching as his tongue glided along the low waistband of her lace knickers, actively seeking his touch, wanting more pressure, more heat, more friction on any part of her body he wished to devour.  “Yours, Rumpel!  Please!”

He tugged at the lace covering with his teeth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her hip, sucking the flesh into his mouth to mark her.  The beast within him purred at the sight of the tiny bruise purpling there.  Finally he released her hands to hook into the sides of the lace and pull them down over her thighs to toss to the floor with the rest of their clothes.  He rumbled happily as she lay there before him, a feast to his senses, her folds glistening pink and wet with her arousal.

The blush returned to her skin as she watched him, praying he wouldn’t find fault with her wanton display.  He was hers, she thought happily, fighting against her modesty and the need to cover herself.  He’d finally let her in, let her get close, lowered his walls.  She knew how much that must have cost him and she would not in turn hide herself away from him.  She could see the cost of his patience straining against the front of his cotton trousers and her hands itched to touch him, to see if he was as hard and turgid in her hand as he’d been pressed against her hip.

“You too,” she whispered, biting at her lip as she cajoled herself to be brave.  “Take them off.  Let me see you, Rum.”

He shivered at her hoarsely murmured words, his cock twitching spasmodically as she reached for the ties of his cotton trousers.  “Soon,” he said, batting her hands away as he knelt between her ankles and ran his rough hands up the length of her long shapely legs, dipping his head to press a kiss to the inside of her right knee.  She trembled beneath his questing hands as his lips ventured closer, his teeth grazing along her inner thigh.  He held fast to her hips as she squirmed, pressing her firmly to the soft mattress, holding her still as he pressed a light kiss to her curls.

He inhaled deeply, growling low in his throat as he breathed her in, pride welling in his chest to know that he’d done this to her.  Not some prince, or her fumbling knight, but him…the beast of the Dark Castle, the monster others scorned.  Her cries filled his ears as his tongue delved between her folds, an answering moan of his own joining them.  She was so sweet, so perfect and much too good for a beast such as him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.  She wanted him and little else mattered as he lapped at her, her sweetness flooding his mouth and enveloping him in her taste, her musky scent, her desire.  His tongue swirled around her clit as he slipped one long finger into her opening, her inner muscles clenching around him at the unfamiliar intrusion.  He denied her pressure where she desired it most, her frustration growing as he continued to tease her.  Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow as her hands clung to his shoulders or pulled at his hair and the sting of her nails only increased the ache in his cock as he pressed his hips into the mattress to soothe the incredibly sweet ache building there.

He added another finger, this one slipping into her just as easily as the first, his digits coated with her fluids as he thrust gently, slowly stretching her, filling her, preparing her as he continued to taste her.  Her sweet cries, the most beautiful music he could ever remember hearing, filled the room as she bucked up against him, breaking his hold on her.  She was wild and feral, the calm reserve ingrained in her no match for the onslaught of his tongue.  His lips closed over her clit and sucked gently as his fingers thrust again and she howled, her thighs quivering as she shattered beneath him.  She came hard, her legs clamping together tightly around his head, her inner walls fluttering and clenching madly around his fingers.

He removed his fingers and delved his tongue into her opening, drinking her down as if he were an alcoholic starved for an elusive taste of that last shot of whiskey, his hands slipping beneath her hips and cradling her to his mouth, refusing to give an inch until he was sure he’d savored the last drop.  A sob tore loose from her throat as she fell over the edge again and his head snapped up, his eyes going to her face.  Hurriedly, he crawled up her body to wipe away the tears slowly leaking from the corners of her closed lids.

“Belle?” he asked, worriedly as he pressed a kiss to her lips.  “What’s wrong, love?  Did I hurt you?  Was I too rough?”

Her cerulean eyes cracked open and a lazy smile bloomed on her lips as she stared up into his concerned amber gaze.  “N-No,” she assured him, pulling him down to suck gently at his lower lip, feeling heat flood her once again as she tasted herself on his lips.  “So good, so perfect.  I never knew it would feel like that.”

He sighed with relief as he buried his face against the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder, unable to resist marking her again as he grinded his cotton clad erection against her core.  “Want you so much, Belle,” he growled, his tongue rasping over the small bruise purpling on her alabaster flesh.

Belle slid her hands over his chest, her nails scratching with renewed vigor as his groin pressed against her clit and he cried out as she gently tweaked his nipple.  She didn’t linger, however, her fingertips venturing lower and pulling at the ties of his pants, a sly grin curling her lips as she pushed them over his hips.  She raised her feet, hooking her toes in the soft fabric, pushing it further down his legs until he was free and it was his turgid flesh pressed flush with her core.  He threw his head back with a howl as she slipped a hand between them and wrapped her fingers over his length, giving her better access to the tendon that stood out so prominently in his neck.  It was her turn to suckle at his flesh, to draw it into her mouth and lave with her tongue, marking him in turn.  A wave of possessiveness curled deliciously in her belly and she squeezed him gently as she sank her teeth into his flesh.

He roared incoherently as he tore her hand away from his shaft and pinned it to the bed, his lips finding hers once more.  He gentled as his tongue glided sinuously against her, afraid he might frighten her with his raging passion, but it was his Belle who fought free of his restraining grasp and buried her hands in his hair, kissing him with an intensity that had him grinding against her and moaning from the sheer pleasure of her desire.

“Now, Rum, please.  I need you,” she gasped against his lips.  She hooked a leg over his hip, arching up to meet him as the blunt head of his cock brushed over her clit.  “Please!”

He pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, dislodging the damp tendril from her brow as he gazed down at her with concern.  “Shh, love, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, Rum…Please!” she begged, her heel digging into the back of his thigh as she tried to urge him closer, to take her, to love her properly.  His eyes rolled back into his head as he took himself in hand and pressed gently at her opening, his breath coming in sharp pants as her heat enveloped him.  She was going to be the death of him, no dagger needed.  He entered her slowly, allowing her to adjust to him as he pushed into her inch by agonizing inch.

He held himself rigid as he came upon her maidenly barrier, sweat beading on his brow as he caught her gaze.  “Do it, Rum,” she commanded, bracing her hands on his shoulders.  She would endure any pain, make any sacrifice to have herself joined so fully to the man she loved with every beat of her stuttering heart.

He withdrew from her, thrusting shallowly, each time barely grazing against her barrier, her arousal easing his way and then as the lines of stress eased away from her mouth, he pushed through and buried himself as deeply as he could go, groaning as she clenched him tightly.  Belle barely registered the brief sting, too consumed by the feeling of him filling her so completely.

He lowered his lips to kiss her, light fluttering kisses he brushed to her brow, her eyes, the tip of her nose before claiming her mouth in a kiss so reverent, so gentle he could feel tears sting his eyes.  He kissed her slowly, languorously, pouring all the love in his heart into his precious girl, trying to convey the feelings he was too choked up to speak.

A whimper of dismay escaped her throat as she canted her hips forward, trying to draw him deeper.  She wrapped one arm around his neck, nipping lightly at his lower lip as the nails of the other scraped over his right hip.  He snapped his hips forward in response, a deep growl of pleasure rumbling up out of his throat.  “Oh, Belle!” he cried, thrusting slowly, finding a rhythm bordering on torture.

Her pleasure was of the utmost concern and he bit into his lip to fight off the whispers in his head chanting faster, harder, deeper, more!  She may have fallen in love with the beast as she’d claimed, but he’d be damned if he took her like one.  It took every ounce of concentration not to, especially when she buried her sharp little teeth in his shoulder and her sweet cries reverberated in his ears, begging for him to move faster, harder, deeper, more!

Belle dug her nails into the taut muscles of his ass and he howled, losing more and more of his control, feeling it slip through his fingers like grains of sand as she clenched harder around him, her walls fluttering and spasming in sharp contrast to his thrusts.  “Rumpel, please.  Please, please, please,” she cried and he wrapped his arm about her waist, lifting her, changing the angle of his thrusts so that every downward stroke would have him grinding into her clit and she came with the scream of his name on her lips.

Her inner muscles pulled him deeper, clasping and clenching until white light burst behind his eyes and he came undone with a howl, his seed spilling into her in a hot burst of pleasure as his hips continued to move sporadically.  She clasped him to her tightly as she took a deep shuddering breath, her lips trailing lazily over his damp brow, her fingers carding through his hair as they fought to catch their breath.  When he tried to take his weight from her, she held tighter, not yet wanting to break their connection.

He brushed away the tears glistening at the corner of her eyes as he raised his head.  It was nothing less than he’d expected, and his stomach roiled viciously.  “I’m so sorry, Belle.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She gaped at him.  “What?!  No, you didn’t hurt me, my love.  It was perfect…you were perfect and gentle and beautiful,” she whispered, rolling with him as he stretched out on his side.”  She brushed away the hair that had fallen over his eyes.  “It was so much more…so much better than I could have ever dreamed.”

He relaxed against the pillows, feeling the tension leave him at her reassurances and he pulled her into the circle of his arms to lie against his chest.  She threw her leg over both of his and wrapped an arm about his waist as she pressed a tender kiss to his chest over his heart.  He snapped his spell clever fingers and the duvet leapt into his hand, enabling him to pull it over them, tucking the ends around his precious girl.

“This changes quite a bit, y’know?” he said after a moment of quiet reflection.

“Mmm,” she murmured in agreement.  “Yes it does.  This means I can have you whenever I desire.”

“Does it now?” he asked, arching a brow as she giggled.

“Yes, I believe so.”

His arms tightened about her as he twisted a lock her hair about his finger.  “Cheeky minx,” he scolded, dropping a kiss to her temple.  “I don’t think I’ll mind at all,” he whispered, suddenly serious.  “Belle…”

Belle snuggled closer and pressed a kiss to his neck before yawning widely.  “I love you, too, Rumpelstiltskin.  Happy Christmas.”

The imp stared down at her with no small amount of wonder on his weathered features.  “Aye, love, Happy Christmas.  The first of many.”

 


End file.
